


Waking Life

by Speary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Destiel - Freeform, Dreamwalking, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Season/Series 12, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8071018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speary/pseuds/Speary
Summary: They were back to hunting, back together, back to being a team, plus one. They fought hard together, Mary perhaps harder than all of them combined, but that wasn't enough to keep Dean from noticing that Cas was gone. It wasn't enough to keep him from praying for that to change. It wasn't enough to keep him from dreaming a world of lies in which he was there, right there to stay.Then he woke up, and he wasn't alone.---Dean was about to move them into a room. It was a dream after all, and things could work out that way if you wanted it badly enough. You could lie to yourself in dreams and say you got a key to a room down the hall, that you were in it alone while your mom and kid brother slept elsewhere without worrisome injuries. You could say that you wanted something like this, the stable, anchoring touch of your best friend. You could say that you wanted all of it, the long drawn out life together that seemed too domestic to wish for in the daylight. You could want this in dreams. You could.





	

They’d fought hard in the months since Sam’s return to them. It was almost like they needed to be in a constant state of motion to prove that they were all still alive. Mary was perhaps the most motivated of the bunch having been the most dead of the bunch not so long before. She never seemed to sleep, and dove into battle with the ferocity and grace of a tiger. In battle she was fluid lines of movement, striking hard and fast before her enemy even knew what had happened.

Even Cas said something about it. He didn’t say much lately, but on Mary he had something to say. His silence wasn’t entirely foreign; he was often quiet and contemplative. Dean noticed how this quiet was different though, like he thought that something was wrong but couldn’t put a righteous angel finger on it. Dean noted the way that his brow came together as he watched each of them when they sat at the table looking for cases. He noticed the way Cas watched him too. He seemed to be trying for subtlety as he stared past the top of his computer, pulling his gaze back down when Dean returned the stare.

The last hunt was the worst. There were demons, old ones with a fierce loyalty to Lucifer. They didn’t care that the battle was done and Lucifer was AWOL. They just wanted to generate havoc for seemingly no purpose. Mary said otherwise. She said there was alway a purpose, and that they just weren’t seeing it. She worried about what they didn’t see. She continually expressed a need for caution and thought before action. Yet when action was needed, there she was.

Despite thought and caution being part of the hunt, Sam got himself injured. It was nothing huge, a concussion that would take him out of the game for the night. Any other time and Cas could have healed him, but he wasn’t here now. He was off doing as Cas does, leaving.

Dean grumbled as he lead Sam back to his room in the bunker, hand on his back in case he passed out. Mary was at his own back, quiet in her following. “Here ya go,” Dean said as he pressed open the door to Sam’s room while also pushing his hand a little more firmly into the low indent of Sam’s back.

Sam turned and moved into his room. Dean felt a hand on his own back. Mary’s voice moved from behind him to his side. “I’ve got this, Dean. You go get yourself some sleep.” She smiled at him, a weak, sleepy smile that ran up to her eyes.

“Nah, mom. I’m good. I only need like four hours of sleep, and I’m certainly not tapped out yet.” He smiled back and attempted to look much more awake than he felt. Truth be told, he was beat to hell. He could feel the dull throb of bruises along his ribs and low on his back just shy of his spine. He felt like he’d run a marathon, as the muscles in his legs felt tight and on the verge of cramping up.

She reached up to his cheek and let her thumb drag over the edge of his face back into his temple. “You let me do this, Dean. From what Sam’s told me, you’ve been taking care of him since,” she paused a moment and finished, “forever.” She glanced into the room. Sam looked dead on his feet. He swayed a little, but didn’t crumble.

“He did.” Sam backed her up.

“Yeah, well someone had to mind your sorry ass.” Then Dean remembered that his mom was there. “Uh, sorry.” He still wasn’t use to this.

She said low, in a tone of regret, “That should have been John doing that.” She dropped her hand to his side and took his hand. Her grip was firm and gentle all at once. “I missed so much. I missed diaper changes and midnight feedings. I missed everything with him. Let me have this.” She tipped her head to Sam.

Dean laughed a little huff of air and said, “Okay, mom. He might be a bit beyond the diaper changes though, just fyi.”

Her face scrunched up a little in confusion, “I don’t know that one. F-Y-I?”

Dean let her hand go with a squeeze and moved down the hall to his room. “For your information.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she called out to his retreating form, “Goodnight, Dean.”

—-

Rough hunts made him sleep hard. He practically fell into the bed. His mind was filled with the screams that had filled the dark barn where they had been ambushed. They won though. That was what mattered most. They won. It would’ve been easier though with a little back up. He’d prayed, but thought that maybe it hadn’t been getting through.

Cas had been different. It seemed like he wasn’t all there even when they were all in the same room. It made Dean wonder. It made him worry. In his dream, he thought of him. He was home in the bunker, not distant, not strange. He was home and not leaving. He was comfortable and stretched out on the couch. He was in every room Dean wandered through in the calmness of the dream.

The screams though, shot him back from the tranquility of the bunker and into the hunt, into the moments of fear that stabbed at his heart when he saw Sam fall to the ground. It had been so dark. They fought blind for most of it, groping around for purchase against enemies that were swift and slick with blood and gore.

When the battle ended, they returned to their motel to get clean. It was broad daylight by then, and it wouldn’t do to have people seeing what looked like a bunch of blood soaked murderers driving an entirely inconspicuous Impala. They chose not to sleep in the motel though. The adrenaline was still too high. They also didn’t feel safe so close to where the action had been despite their success.

They planned to get clean and drive on to home, on to the bunker. While Mary got clean, Dean left Sam for a moment in the motel room, just to get some vending machine food. The sky was bright and so blue. He stood for just a moment, soaking it in warm on his face. In the dream, it was more than a moment. He waited for the screams and dark to snake their way in again and tear it all away, back to nightmares.

Instead he felt the warm press of a body on his chest, hands that raked up over his sides to his shoulders, and back up into his hair. “Cas,” he breathed out. He leaned against the vending machine and stared at Cas who had somehow materialized right up against him out of nowhere, smelling of ozone and spices that Dean associated with India.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was a low whisper that brushed over Dean’s lips.

“No, not so much.” He felt Cas’ fingers curl up in the hair at the base of his head, his thumb stroking back and forth in the space. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came as soon as I could.” Dean had hoped for this when it had all been real. He’d prayed as he slid his dollar bills into the machine. He’d been given nothing for his efforts. It was only fair that he’d be given more in dreams. He let himself have this. Normally he’d deny himself even in sleep. The day had been hard though, and Cas hadn’t bothered.

Dean moved his hands to Cas’ hips and just held him there, willing him to stay. Cas pressed in impossibly closer, and Dean could feel the rigid lines of muscles and desire warm on him. “You missed me.” It was more statement than question.

“Of course.” HIs lip curled up into a half grin his brow arching up at the same time. He brought his mouth close to Dean’s. “I see the feeling is mutual.” Dean let his fingers dig in a little. The flex of them a natural response to what he was thinking and feeling in the moment. He wanted to get past the layers of fabric, feel skin in his hands. He wanted to taste him. Instead they stood there together, breathing each other’s air, heartbeats pounding at each other, and otherwise were still.

Dean was about to move them into a room. It was a dream after all, and things could work out that way if you wanted it badly enough. You could lie to yourself in dreams and say you got a key to a room down the hall, that you were in it alone while your mom and kid brother slept elsewhere without worrisome injuries. You could say that you wanted something like this, the stable, anchoring touch of your best friend. You could say that you wanted all of it, the long drawn out life together that seemed too domestic to wish for in the daylight. You could want this in dreams. You could.

And Cas leaned into his neck, dragging his lips over his skin there. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a rush though. Dean angled his head to feel it more. Cas leaned back and away and stared at him with all the intensity he brought to a good smiting, but his lips held the curl of affection as he licked them wet. “I’ll take whatever you’re offering.”

“And I’ll give you whatever you’ll take,” Cas replied. Dean smiled back at the possibility, and noticed movement in the distant parking lot. He recognized the shock of messy brown hair, the flapping trench coat, and the brilliant blue eyes. Cas was in his arms, and Cas was also watching him, watching this. It was startling, and Dean woke up.

—-

His room was dark, and his heart was pounding. His body, unsatisfied, ached. He wasn’t alone. Over him was Cas. “Dean.” His voice pierced past the last dregs of dream-like fog that still blanketed his mind.

“What the hell?” Dean started. Cas was on him. He registered this. “What’re you doing?”

“You were having a nightmare. I intervened.” He didn’t move off of Dean. The effects of the dream were still present. Dean started to squirm up into a seated position, but Cas wouldn’t let him.

“Cas.” He glanced down at their hips, pressed firmly together, Cas’ legs framing him in. His hands were pressed to the pillow on either side of Dean’s head. His face hovered mere inches above Dean’s own.

“You were praying. You called me to you. You were in distress, and I couldn’t find you. Then you prayed again, quieter, safer sounding. As I was being tortured, I could not come to you. Then I got free. You prayed again, and you sounded like you were suffering. You needed me. I came then, now. I’m here.” The last bit was stilted.

“Are you okay?” Dean’s eyes moved over him as well as they could in the darkness of his room. He couldn’t see any injuries, but who knew.

“I’m fine, Dean. Fine.” He brought up a hand to Dean’s cheek and settled it there. “I thought that…” his words trailed off. His hand was warm on Dean’s cheek.

“I’m okay, Cas, really.” Dean brought a hand up to Cas’ chest and pressed his palm there. “I promise.”

“Sometimes I wonder how many times I’ll have to lose you before it breaks me entirely.” Cas stared down at him. “I wanted to go with you before, die at your side, but you wouldn’t let me. I understand why.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He stroked his thumb back and forth on Dean’s cheek and continued, “I saw you here and thought, I could stop the nightmares like I use to.”

“They aren’t so bad as they use to be.” Dean rubbed his own thumb back and forth on Cas’ chest. “You made them better.”

“This wasn’t a nightmare though. I didn’t want to stop this.” He brought himself lower and Dean’s hand moved to Cas’ side, resting on his hip. “I want to stop losing you. I want this dream to be real.”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath of air and waited for more, for action, for even some subtle movement to propel them onward. There was just stillness though. So Dean said, “You kinda gotta stick around a bit if you ever want that to happen.” He licked his lips, a quick dart of his tongue. Cas mirrored the move. “If you want it to be real though, I’d be all in. Just say the word.”

Cas didn’t say a word, just dipped down fast to Dean’s mouth. He ran his hand back up into his hair and held him firmly. Dean’s only response was a stifled gasp that was lost in Cas’ mouth. He kissed like he’d done it a million times, though this was their first endeavor. Dean parted his lips and felt the warm press of Cas’ tongue sliding into his mouth. He pulled Cas tighter to him, snaking his other arm around to his back. Cas dropped to lay atop him fully, their bodies one warm mass of writhing intent.

Somehow they managed to pull off shirts and pants and everything between them. Their skin finally found contact in all ways. Cas leaned away a moment and traced a finger over Dean’s brow. He could feel the cool stream of grace coursing through him, healing the bruises from battle and the pain of the night before. He kissed his thanks into him, dragging his lips over his jawline down to his neck. He’d taste every promise made in those moments. Cas’ hips rolling over him promising and delivering pleasure. Cas’ fingers traced his muscles and the lines of his ribs. Dean thought about how much he knew and had seen. Yet here he was content to be this, to be his.

“You could do better, ya know.” Dean murmured out as Cas moved to kiss a trail down Dean’s chest to his stomach.

He stopped his journey and looked up at Dean, met his eyes with a raise to his brow, and said, “That’s not true. This is the best.” He smiled, a devilish grin in an angel’s face. “You’re loved Dean. Accept it.” His face dropped back to Dean’s stomach that he was now peppering in kisses as part of his journey.

Dean’s eyes rolled back up into his head as Cas took him in. He felt the press of his hands on his sides, the warm wetness of his mouth, and the joy of maybe just maybe living the dream. “You too Cas. You’re loved too.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel like finding me on Tumblr, I'm [Spearywritesstuff](http://spearywritesstuff.tumblr.com/).


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